Under the counter

I think the butcher fancies me. Every now and then he slips me the not-so-nice looking steaks or tail-end of the salmon in with my order, saying they don't look good enough to sell. Obviously this will put me in good stead should the Second World War break out again.

T, after spening the last 18 months tip-toeing across the ice, has passed her first grade ice-skating. She is the same level as I am, and is everso strict when it comes to her giving me a leson each time we go out. By forcing her to enjoy sport (sometimes physically, sometimes through crisps) I am hoping she will never have to experience the full unmitigated horror of being chosen last for the netball team.

The ice-skating has now finished for the summer, and I have replaced it by attending a personal trainer at the gym, courtesy of one of bridgjo's friends who can no longer use the lessons he paid for. The Swiss friend and I have started running around the lake again. The weather is beautiful and sparkley....though now and then a Minnesotan will sigh and murmur "It's not over yet, y'know".

A bloke said "Howdy!" to me today. I giggled.

Worry, worry, worry....

1. Will I catch swine flu?
2. Do I have any money at all to spend on make-up?
3. Is it considered ill-mannered to approach someone and ask "So why did you refuse to be my friend on Facebook, then?".

It is raining here, and I am over-run with hostas. They are beginning to move triffid-like closer and closer to the house. One tulip is about to bloom. I shall have to run out with a camera when it does, as it is the only one of fifty. The daffodil of two weeks ago was obviously too terrified to do anything else apart from sprout 2 Cm, then shrivel. The daffodil show is on this week-end - so I will drag the family off to join the purple-hair-rinsed populace, so we can benefit from a little floral colour.

There's been a falling out between myself and the raccoon. He gave me a very reproachful look last night, as he tossed the asparagus stalks about - he plainly missed his cat-food. I think he has forgotten he is a scavenger (although they sometimes also have rabies). In French they are called raton laveur - Wash-Rat - as they like to clean their food before eating it. Obviously a very picky sort of scavenger, then.

The radio here is excellent - loads of choice. In Switzerland I just listened to World Radio Switzerland, both because I'm very lazy and can't be doing listening to high-speed radio-French (second only to high-speed cartoon French and Molière in my list of "French I could do without"), and also so I could listen to my mate Rachel and get advice on child-rearing without admitting I need it. Oh and also to listen to "Pete on the Beat" (apparently, though this might be a fib) his real name is Warren. But I expect a show called "Warren in his Sporran" wouldn't quite conjure up the right image for radio).

Here I listen to either The Current, which plays a very pleasing mix of music a hip parent can listen with their kids without seeming too sad, and KFAI (KFAI Fresh Air Radio - Radio without boundaries), which plays music from Louisiana, the 50s, anything scratchy and a bit of ukulele. KFAI is run by volunteers and I suspect you can just turn up with your own record collection (Bucks Fizz, anyone?) and the right attitood, and you're on.

And my next favourite thing about Minnesota - old men at the supermarket employed to pack and carry your bags to the car, who then say "It's raining, you get in and I'll load the trunk for you".

Better than Tesco's.